


And Cure His Heart

by ThisIsMyDesignHannibal



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, BDSM, Canon Compliant, Consensual Kink, Dom Hannibal, Dom/sub, Edgeplay, Edging, Hannibal Loves Will, Kink, M/M, Nipple Clamps, Nipple Play, Post-Season/Series 03, Praise Kink, Rope Bondage, S&M, Scars, Sub Will Graham, Submission, Subspace, Surprise! - Freeform, Will Loves Hannibal, Will needs, will is being an ass
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-18
Updated: 2017-07-30
Packaged: 2018-11-15 18:29:25
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 10,460
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11236728
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ThisIsMyDesignHannibal/pseuds/ThisIsMyDesignHannibal
Summary: Will’s irritability and frustration have been mounting since going on the run, and Hannibal has been bearing the brunt of it.  Unconsciously craving one particular way Hannibal can help him quiet his whirring mind, it’s time for Will to face up to what he needs, swallow his pride, and ask for it.This time, however, actions speak more eloquently than words ever could.Relinquishing control can be its own form of therapy. Relief is often found in surrender.





	1. Part 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [idonthaveyourappetite](https://archiveofourown.org/users/idonthaveyourappetite/gifts).



> This is a birthday gift for my wonderful murder bestie [idonthaveyourappetite](https://archiveofourown.org/users/idonthaveyourappetite/pseuds/idonthaveyourappetite)
> 
> Written for Hannibal Cre-Ate-Ive's amazing #JustFuckMeUp event! 
> 
> Enormous thanks to the speed beta’ing skills of [victorine](https://archiveofourown.org/users/victorine/pseuds/victorine)

_Don’t say it._

Will glared at Hannibal’s back as he strode from the kitchen, biting down on his lower lip as though he could physically hold back the cruel words ready to shoot from his mouth. It was a futile effort and he knew it. 

“So after all these years, I only have to insult your cooking and you’ll finally leave me alone? I should have known… it could have spared me _years_ of trouble.” 

Will regretted the poisonous words as soon as they were loosed. He regretted them just as much as the jibe he had let fly at the dinner table, and the breakfast table before it, and all the other innumerable barbs he had recently flung in Hannibal’s direction. Will regretted every second of his vicious sniping of late, but he just couldn’t seem to stop.

He couldn’t stop his words any more than he could stop his legs from following Hannibal’s long strides into the living room, unwilling to let him go so easily, tossing the wet dishtowel onto the floor in the corner just to see if he could detect a slight curl to Hannibal’s lip. He couldn’t, but that only made him want to try harder.

 _What the hell is wrong with you? Stop. Now._

They’d been on the run for only two weeks, having only recently settled into the first of what would undoubtedly prove to be a long line of Hannibal’s safe houses. But no matter the genteel surroundings or the comfortable atmosphere Hannibal had done his best to provide, Will’s nerves had been on edge since leaving the dreamlike limbo of the house on the bluff. His mind spun constantly, entirely unable to relax, nerves on edge and reality just a little _too_ real for comfort…

Truth be told, Will had been insufferable, even to himself, and yet he didn’t know how to fix it, or even how to stop from making it worse. 

Hannibal had settled himself quietly into a chair in front of the fire and was busy pretending to ignore him, a book open pointedly on his lap. Will slumped down into the chair opposite him, arms across his chest, defensive and aggressive at once. Hannibal’s face was a smooth mask as it gazed down at his open page with deceptive serenity. Will knew him well enough to know that such a schooled expression spelled danger, even for him, but the slight droop he detected in Hannibal’s shoulders betrayed a hurt that cut Will to the core.

_What are you doing? Why do you insist on provoking him every time your nerves get the better of you?_

“If your goal is for me to leave you alone Will, I fail to see how sitting next to me will help you achieve it.”

Hannibal’s voice was clipped and tight but Will could still hear indulgence behind his words. For some reason Hannibal’s infuriating patience with him since leaving the cabin only served to frustrate him all the more. He didn’t want indulgence. Didn’t want patience. He wanted a reaction. He wanted to stop feeling this way. He wanted help. He wanted _Hannibal_. He wanted…

_You don’t know what you want, and you expect him to give it to you anyway._

Will dragged his palms down his face in exasperation. “And where else would I go? We’re conjoined, remember? _Murder husbands_ on the run? Jesus, I can see Freddie’s headlines now.”

Hannibal closed the book and looked up at him passively, a slight considering tilt to his head. Despite his calm expression, Will could see the effort that went into maintaining that poise, the smouldering anger shifting behind his eyes.

“You haven’t seemed quite yourself since leaving the cabin, Will. Perhaps you regret your decision to leave with me? To be _Murder Husbands on the run,_ as you say?”

Will wanted to remind Hannibal how far past regret they were. He wanted his tone to soften, to tell Hannibal he was sorry, to tell him that while he may be riddled with regrets, choosing this life wasn’t among them — that he didn’t know _why_ he was acting like this. He wanted to tell him he loved him…

But he could no more get the words out than he could will himself to stop baiting the one person in the world he loved even more than his own sanity. It was infuriating, and mixed with Hannibal’s falsely passive expression, the frustration in his gut concocted another volley of toxic words before he could stop them.

“Are you giving me your psychiatrist tone Hannibal? It’s quite demure. Perhaps I fail to see how you can just sit there and read your book when I’m being so patently rude. Have I finally got you on a leash, or has Hannibal Lecter finally decided that rudeness no longer requires a firm hand?”

Hannibal hesitated for only a second, but Will could feel his mind ticking around his anger. The pregnant silence was broken only by the hiss and pop of the fire, stringing out the tension between them until Hannibal leaned forward in his seat, coiled like a snake ready to strike, eyes snapping up to hold his own, his tone no longer passive.

“Are you asking something of me, Will?” Danger flickered and curled around him, the ghost of a predatory smile on his lips. Will’s breath caught, that dangerous purr shocking him with an electric jolt that went straight to his groin. “Because if you are, you’ll need to do better than this. I have no interest in wasting my _firm hand,_ as you call it, on your tiresome sniping. I’ll not reward bad behaviour.”

Like pinching out a flame, Hannibal sat back abruptly and opened his book, leaving Will’s mouth to open and close around half-formed retaliations, denials, outrage — _How dare you?! That is_ not _what I meant. You think that’s what this is about? —_ all of them falling to pieces under the weight of dawning realisation. Will shut his mouth and slowly sank back into the chair like he’d been punched in the gut, face red and his eyes far away.

_Fuck._

That was exactly what this was about and the realisation came like a slap in the face.

_How many times will you hurt him because you can never admit what you want?_

The thought sent every last, misplaced angry thought straight out of Will’s head.

He had never forgotten the intensity of their first time together, the relief and the release — how Hannibal had overwhelmed his cruel defenses, how he had taken away the whirring and buzzing in Will’s mind that he had never quite been able to shake on his own. Hannibal had taken away the burden of his doubt and fear and guilt and given him back a peace he had never known. That night in the cabin, their wounds recovered but their potential still a looming tension, Hannibal had forced Will’s hand and saved him from himself. He had given Will everything he knew he wanted but would never have been able to ask for. Hannibal had taken it all from him, roughly, viciously, lovingly, and he had replaced it with ecstasy — pain and pleasure and everything in between and Will could not have been more grateful.  

It had been beautiful.

But though they had been together countless times since then, the dynamic of that night had not repeated itself. Since that first time, Will had never relinquished control, quite the opposite in fact, and Hannibal had been all too happy to indulge him as he tested the limits of his new-found power over the man he loved. But that first night had never really left his thoughts. Hannibal’s voice, his command — hands rough and firm and undeniable, the knife… _The rope._ The memory thrilled through Will’s guts as he remembered how it had felt, rough on his skin, binding him and freeing him in equal measure. _Transcendent_.

_I need that again._

Will could barely breathe as the truth of that revelation settled in his stomach and prickled along his skin. It was as undeniable as Hannibal’s voice had been that night. When Will rose slowly from his chair his legs were shaking. The full weight of this admission to himself left him feeling both heavy and remarkably light, like he was floating up out of his seat while his legs remained firmly rooted, laden with apprehension. The heat of the fire added a smoldering glow to the warmth already threading through his veins, rising to kiss his skin. Anticipation beat in his chest, as he forced his legs to move, turning away from Hannibal to walk himself slowly out of the room.

As if the very molecules in the air connected them, he could feel Hannibal watching him leave — burning eyes boring a hole in his back, angry, frustrated, but still adoring. There would undoubtedly be a question bitten off behind tightly pressed lips, too proud to speak as Will left the room without a word.

But Will couldn’t bring himself to speak… not yet. Instead he made his way to the bedroom, eyes fixed on the doorway, forward momentum essential. There was nothing he could say to express this need, this admission, this desire to surrender, this plea for relief. Words would fail him. So often they hid behind their words — their play at artifice buffering the startling glare of such raw intimacy and understanding. No, now was not a time for words, it would all come out wrong. What Will wanted from Hannibal would have to be shown.

_A sacrifice for a gift._

Will closed the bedroom door behind him. For some reason he needed privacy to strip himself bare — to shed his armour. The light from the moon bathed the room in cool silver. He left the light off as though that silken glow could soothe the burning he felt rising to his cheeks and pooling in his gut.

Will undressed, nervous fingers slipping on buttons, shaky limbs stepping out of his pants…

_Are you really doing this?_

He moved deliberately, defying the doubt still scratching at the back of his mind, each item of clothing removed and placed carefully aside. It was beginning to feel like the first occurrence of a ritual, a preparation, a readying of the body for… _something sacred_? Although his face burned brighter at how… _overwrought…_ that thought seemed, it still felt right somehow, as though his heart had been mulling over what his mind had failed to admit, even after all they had been through together — that he needed this, that he had _always_ needed this.    

Completely naked now, Will stood in front of the full-length mirror, appraising. He put his shoulders back, shook out his curls. Despite the moonlight he could see the blush blossoming red over his skin, physical evidence of an impossible mix of fear and need, and an old shame he knew didn’t truly belong to him anymore. He wasn’t hard — although his heart beat a staccato of anticipation, he didn’t want to presume.

All he could offer was himself. It felt a paltry recompense for his horrible behaviour of late, but he could only hope that Hannibal would understand what he needed — that he would have mercy…

_But I don’t want mercy. He won’t make this easy. He can’t, and I don’t want him to._

With a thrill of fear, Will strode over to the closet and took down a looped and knotted length of jute rope from a duffle on the top shelf. With a steadying breath, and one last look in the mirror, the rope heavy between his hands, Will left the bedroom and walked back down the hall to the living room, blood rising to burn his skin. His steps were measured, bare feet quiet on the hardwood floor. His muscles were already trembling, but he did his best to keep his shoulders back and his head up.

_Don’t hesitate. Hesitation will only mean retreat._

Will didn’t pause before walking into the room, letting his momentum carry him past that point of no return.

Hannibal hadn’t moved.

Although his chair faced away from him, Will could still see his legs, elegantly crossed, handsome brown leather shoes polished to a low lustre beneath crisply creased navy pants. One hand still held open the book on his lap.  The other dangled a glass of wine from his fingers, the fire shining through its ruby depths and glinting off his platinum watch, loose on his wrist under a rolled up white sleeve.

Will’s body couldn’t help but respond to that solid presence, already the pull inside him so strong. He crossed the room as if reeled in by an invisible line tied straight to his gut.

When it came down to it, Will couldn’t look Hannibal in the eye as he stepped around his crossed legs to stand in front of him. He couldn’t bear to see what might be reflected back at him in those liquid depths... at least not yet. All he could do was stand before him, naked, exposed, head bowed and skin burning — the rope stretched between both hands like a talisman, an offering that he hoped would say what words could not.

He heard Hannibal’s sharp intake of breath, a single hitch, that brief second stringing the tension taut between them. Pride burned through him at that small noise, brief but hot, a memory of the power in surrender. Will couldn’t help but visualise how he must look standing there, firelight silhouetting naked skin, his silence speaking volumes, poised again on the edge of a cliff and waiting for Hannibal to pull him over this time, _needing_ him to.

Before Hannibal could speak Will knelt before him and laid the rope at his feet — the rope and his naked body both offering and entreaty, request and demand — both himself and more than himself.

_Please._

Hannibal didn’t move. Will slowly sat back on his heels but kept his head lowered, staring daggers into the rope as if he could will it into Hannibal’s hands. His breath was fast and shallow, muscles thrumming, fists clenched on his thighs — so tightly coiled that Will felt as though he could just as easily stand up and flee as strike Hannibal dead if he refused him.

 _Please, I need this from you. I need you to take this from me._

Will felt the silence string out between them as if his very breath were being sucked from his lungs, each second of tension mounting like a desperate sob at the back of his throat. Hannibal sat completely still, not a muscle moving, not even a hint of breath since that single gasp, but Will could feel his eyes on him like an icy burn, claiming… assessing… testing… 

At the precise moment Will felt that the tension inside him would tear him apart, Hannibal finally moved, setting his wine glass slowly on the side table, the delicate clink of glass hitting glass remarkably loud in Will’s ears. Hannibal paused a second more before reaching out to grasp Will’s chin, tilting his head up, fingers soft but undeniable, burning his skin like a brand. Will allowed his head to be lifted, but still couldn’t bring himself to meet Hannibal’s eyes.

“Look at me, Will.” Hannibal’s voice was quiet, even, but his tone brooked no argument.

Will lifted his eyes with a sharp intake of breath, blue meeting amber, almost ready to beg if  necessary… but the look he saw reflected there rose and swam in unshed tears of relief that softened Hannibal around the edges through a reflected halo of firelight. Those eyes understood. Hungry… loving… cruel and kind and everything in between. Those eyes saw him. They knew. 

_Please. I don’t know how else to ask. Don’t make me say it. Not yet._

“Remarkable.” Hannibal said it to himself, but the word sent a tremor through Will’s body. He tried to keep still as Hannibal’s thumb dragged across his lower lip. Otherwise Hannibal hadn’t moved a muscle — legs crossed calmly, the book still open in his lap, Will’s gaze held captive by his own.

Will could do nothing but do as he was told… to return Hannibal’s penetrating gaze as best he could, to wait, to ignore the voice in the back of his head that balked at even this small surrender and screamed at his exposure. In defiance of that voice, Will brought his hands up behind him, grasping his elbows behind his back in wordless supplication. He could feel Hannibal’s appreciation of this gesture, his approval, eyes predatory but proud.

“I know what you want from me, Will, and your… eloquence… is beautiful.” 

Will felt himself preen slightly at the compliment, a fierce blush following almost immediately as he realized that he had done so. But when Hannibal’s voice came again, it was suddenly sharper, darker, his tone commanding and undeniable, coiling around Will’s heart to squeeze and quicken and coax…

“But make no mistake, Will, what you ask of me has no middle ground. If you want this, I intend to give you what you truly need… not just what you _think_ you want. Nod if you understand me. I want no more words from you until I ask for them.”

In a hot rush, opposite poles of fear and desire and gratitude pulled at Will’s heart, while a surprisingly sharp sliver of indignation sliced through its centre, leaving him trembling with sudden defiant indecision. _How dare you…_

_By its very nature, sacrifice must be dear. This was never going to be easy._

Will felt his eyes harden in a defiant stare, but he nodded his head slowly.

Will watched Hannibal take note of his hesitation, that knowing twitch of his lip and slight narrowing of his eyes spelling out a certain predatory amusement at Will’s contradiction, chastening him and his demanding defiance.

Hannibal uncrossed his legs slowly and leaned forward in his chair, mouth hovering hot at Will’s ear, the sudden closeness of his body filling his senses, thrumming through him like an electric current. Will gripped his elbows tighter to stop himself from reaching out, to touch, to grasp, to close the circuit. 

“I’ll take it from you, Will.” Hannibal’s hot breath on his face — that resonant purr reaching inside him to settle warm in his belly and rapidly stiffening cock. “I’ll take more from you than you think you can give, and give you more than you think you can take. And in the end, you will thank me.”

_Yes._

Need and power and fear surged through Will’s body, he could feel it burning behind his eyes as he all but demanded Hannibal to pick up the rope still coiled at his feet _._

_Yes. Do it. Now._

But instead of bending to pick it up, Hannibal lithely settled himself back in his chair, hands resting comfortably on the armrests, one eyebrow raising when he heard the frustrated sound that slipped from Will’s mouth — his eyes roved over Will’s naked skin, settling on his cock standing hard and red and insistent, a demand Will quickly realized betrayed his impertinent expectancy, his impatient greed.

He had presumed after all, and Will knew instinctively that he would pay for it.

Not knowing if it was in spite of that thought, or because of it, Will’s cock only got harder as he watched a menacing smile spread slowly across Hannibal’s lips.

 


	2. Part 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to all who waited on that cliffhanger...Here's to rewarding good behaviour! ;P XO

 

Hannibal let the smile hang there, stringing out the tension between them before leaning in even closer, lips breathing hot on his ear once again, but saying nothing. Will’s skin jumped as he felt fingers ghosting down the centre of his chest to his stomach, tracing along his scar, the slightest hint of fingernails coaxing his cock to twitch. Hannibal’s presence filled his senses, his fingers maddeningly light as they stroked and scratched at his scar, every nerve ending tingling where their skin made contact.

Suddenly Hannibal’s hand moved from his scar to grip hard around the base of his cock and balls, actually tugging Will forward on his knees.

_ Yes. _

Will sucked in an almost airless breath as Hannibal began stroking him from root to tip, dry, hard, merciless and perfect — long strokes sliding down his shaft, teasing around his balls to twist and curl up to his swollen head.

Still grasping his arms behind him as though they were already tied, Will was already dangerously close to the edge. He felt himself rushing towards his climax, headlong and out of control, his weight straining forward into Hannibal’s hand,  _ almost _ leaning against his chest, eyes squeezed shut, teeth biting back a moan.

_ Fuck. It’s too much. _

This wasn’t what he had wanted, but it was what he wanted now. 

This was a lesson.

Hannibal continued to stroke him expertly, increasing his speed even as his words dripped from his lips like dark honey against his ear.

“Control is learned, Will. Control is taken as well as given. Relinquished and seized. I’m going to take it from you, but you’ll learn to have it while you give me everything.”

Will moaned behind clenched lips, so close, so desperate… both to come and to wait.

His cock throbbed and jerked in Hannibal’s grip, his eyes squeezed shut so he wouldn’t have to see how his hips thrust greedily into Hannibal’s tight fist, barely able to remember his original humility, only wanting to take now, his moan becoming a ravenous and demanding growl…

_ Yes… I’m going to… _

Hannibal let go of him so abruptly that Will’s growl crested dangerously close to a curse, frustration bordering on desperation — hips momentarily thrusting into nothing as his mind tried to grapple with the maddeningly sudden loss of contact.  Hannibal’s words barely made it through the din of blood roaring in his ears.

“But you’ll wait for me until I’m ready for you. You will sit here beside me and learn some patience. Sometimes indulgence comes at a cost, Will.”

And with that, Hannibal sat back in the chair and returned his attention to his book, legs crossing elegantly, instantly composed. 

It felt like free-fall. It felt like Will’s line had snapped. Here he was, kneeling at Hannibal’s side, hands still clasped behind his back, the length of rope still untouched between them, his cock bobbing, swollen and leaking. A crimson flush raced over his skin as his mouth opened and closed around silent syllables of indignation. He couldn’t possibly feel more exposed — ridiculous, reprimanded... like he’d had his knuckles slapped.

Will’s immediate reaction was to buck. To stand up, to storm out, to lash out, to  _ hurt _ — to regain some modicum of control from behind a deceptive veil of righteous anger.

But even as his muscles thrummed with screaming indecision, Hannibal’s eyes cut quickly to him, capturing Will’s gaze and stilling his runaway thoughts just as quickly as a slap to the face. That look was a warning. This moment was a tipping point, the event horizon of both disaster and potential. Will’s chest heaved with the effort of stillness as they held each other there, teetering on the precipice…

But then Hannibal’s gaze was gone, relinquishing his hold, eyes returning to focus calmly on his book, leaving Will untethered once again. His message was crystal clear.

The choice was Will’s. It always had been. 

This was a lesson.

Without Hannibal’s approving gaze, Will realised how much he craved it — how much he preened under the weight of Hannibal’s hungry regard, and took comfort in being the center of his world. Will knew the power he had over Hannibal and that he never seemed to tire of taking advantage of it, never got tired of  _ taking _ .

_ Or have you? _

He had grown too used to Hannibal’s indulgence of his demanding selfishness, and this time was no different. 

_ Remember what you’re asking of him. You want him to take it from you, you need him to, but control is reciprocal. He can only take what you can give.  _

Will allowed himself a shuddering sigh, his mind one step closer to stepping off the edge, forcing himself to truly confront what he really wanted, and what he was ready to give.

_ How many times have you taken more from him than you have given? Even now, as you beg him for this, you are taking from him… but still you find it so hard to give willingly. Why is it still so hard for you to let go and admit what you want? _

He felt his anger draining away along with his urge to flee or fight, the spaces left inside him rapidly filling with the molten burn of desire, his cock still painfully hard, standing between them like an accusation.

_ Only he could do this to me…  _ for _ me. _

A calm descended over him then, not cold, but white hot. This was exactly what he had wanted… what he’d needed, and Hannibal had known immediately,  _ instinctually _ how to handle him, exactly how to push him and how far. He wanted Hannibal to take everything from him, to take his whirring thoughts, his anger, his frustration, his impatience — Will wanted him to break him and remake him in the crucible of his own submission. He wanted to lose himself in Hannibal’s control. He wanted to make of himself an offering. He wanted to let go.

With a deep trembling breath, Will made a choice. He dropped his eyes to the floor, trying to let go of his defiance and all the fury that went with it. He took a deep breath, attempting to calm his racing heart, willing Hannibal to understand how hard it was submit, both to him and to himself.

_ Please. I want this. Help me. _

Will’s eyes burned a hole in the floor as he gripped his arms behind him even tighter, shoulders straining, trying to present a willing figure. Pleading. Silently begging his case once again.

Even though he couldn’t see his face, Will  _ felt _ the moment Hannibal smiled, satisfied, the tension shifting between them profoundly... And when Will felt unexpected fingers brush briefly against his forehead, a damp curl pushed back from his flushed face, he couldn’t help the quiet moan of relief that tumbled from his lips at that feather-light touch, that tiny hint of reassurance. He felt his body tipping forward to chase those fingers as they withdrew and Hannibal sat back more comfortably in his seat, picking up his wineglass without a word and settling in to make Will wait.

_ To teach you a lesson. _

At that thought, an electric current shot through him, thrumming from the scar on his stomach straight to his still-swollen cock. It twitched and bobbed, leaking a single liquid pearl to roll tantalizingly down the shaft. Will gripped his forearms even tighter, knuckles no doubt white with the effort of not touching himself, biting back another moan behind clenched teeth, unsure what to do next, but finally  _ ready _ .

“Come, Will, sit by me.”

Will felt a kind of instant relief at the quiet command, that Hannibal had sensed his uncertainty and had saved him from it. He waited only a second before shuffling closer on his knees to Hannibal’s side, trying to retain at least a modicum of grace, until his body rested against his thigh, naked skin pressed to cool wool. Hannibal continued to ignore him as Will settled himself down on the floor at his feet, sitting on one hip and tucking his legs up beside him, releasing his arms from behind his back and moving his hands demurely to his knees, making sure Hannibal could see that they were far from his cock. 

Slowly, Will allowed himself to give in, to relax, to wait — bringing his head to cautiously rest on Hannibal’s lap, closing his eyes and breathing in the smell of him. Despite the tension, that flinty resistance still coiled deep in his muscles and the back of his mind, Will felt his heart leap in his chest as Hannibal’s hand came up to softly rest in his hair, absently carding through his curls. It was clearly a gesture of praise — Hannibal was pleased, and Will again felt his cock twitching in his lap at the thought, even though it made him blush furiously. He kept his hands firmly on his knees, hoping Hannibal could see how much effort it took. Almost as if he read his mind, Hannibal’s fingers drifted down to trace briefly along his lips, coaxing a soft sigh from him before he could even think to stop it.

Will felt himself drifting, muscles slowly releasing their tension as the minutes ticked by and he waited on Hannibal. Those strong fingers continued to move through his hair, stroking and kneading, sometimes clenching and pulling, concentrating every nerve ending in his scalp. It was almost trancelike — his mind quieting and focusing, smoothing out and sharpening all at the same time. Every so often he would nuzzle deeper against the crease of Hannibal’s hip, and revel in the quiet rumble of pleasure Hannibal allowed him to hear, reverberating from his chest and through his body to where Will’s ear pressed firmly against him.

He had no clear sense of time passing, his earlier demands softening into something resembling patience, something bordering on peace. He felt anticipation, but not urgency. He felt himself, but not himself. He felt more and less, big and small, powerful and vulnerable, proud and humble, all at the same time — those disparate feelings mingling into something soothing, like white noise. But more than anything, he felt Hannibal, his undeniable presence like hot iron, anchoring him enough to let him drift.

Will knew that this was another lesson, one that he would normally resist as mortifying, but all of that felt far away and unimportant. He knew Hannibal’s lesson was taking something from him, but as he knelt at his side and listened as the pages turned, Will knew that Hannibal was taking something from him that he was glad to give, its heavy weight only fully realized as he felt the burden of it lifted from his heart. As he felt his mind becoming still and calm, he knew he was well rid of it.

As he waited on Hannibal’s word, only two words echoed around his skull… 

_ Thank you. _

Eventually Will felt him shift slightly under his cheek and heard Hannibal close his book. The thrill and beat of anticipation surged in his chest at even so small a movement.

“Sit up now, Will. It’s time. On your knees, and hand me the rope.”

Will moved faster than his dignity would have preferred, instinctually responding to Hannibal’s command after waiting on him for so long. Sitting up quickly, his heart was thumping already, his mind reeling from the sudden movement and need to focus. He picked up the rope and stretched it between unsteady hands like a talisman.

But even his haste couldn’t stop him from testing the power he knew he still had, down here on his knees. The power to attract and distract, to manipulate and soften Hannibal’s edges, to make all this  _ easier _ — the power to derail this train he was still a little afraid to board.

_ There is power in beauty. _

Will pushed out his chest, arching his back and shaking out his curls, doing his best to create a beautiful image for Hannibal — making his body a temple for Hannibal’s worship, a fortress with high walls of meat and bone and blood and breath that part of him still wanted to hide behind. Casting a coy smile in Hannibal’s direction, Will caught his eye from beneath coquettish lashes, presenting the rope to him mere inches from his jutting cock and twitching his eyebrows up suggestively.

Hannibal took the rope from him with the barest hint of a smile — just enough to make Will’s mind leap with false relief — before suddenly grabbing Will by the throat with his other hand, fingers cutting off his flow of breath just as completely as his insolent thoughts. 

_ You can’t hide from him. You don’t even want to. _

Hannibal’s voice never wavered, never raised — utterly calm, effortless control. His honeyed purr contradicted the steely grip of his hand as his thumb pressed down on Will’s jugular. 

“I know what you’re trying to do, Will. Making this easier on yourself will not get you what you want… what you  _ really _ want. Starting now, actions have consequences. You’ll keep your eyes down or closed unless I tell you otherwise, but when I tell you to look at me, you will.”

Even now a sharp sliver of defiance made Will hold Hannibal’s eyes for just a moment longer, letting his eyes search for it, just there, behind the veil, that eager violence coiled behind collected poise, that devilish smile twitching at the corner of Hannibal’s mouth as his unyielding grip begin tighten around his throat. As Will’s need to breathe became acute, he thrilled one last time at the possibilities inherent in defiance... but right now, it was the possibility inherent in surrender that thrilled him all the more.

This was a lesson.

Will dropped his eyes.

Hannibal let him go immediately, and as he gasped for breath the delicious release of yielding began to course through him.  

Hannibal set to work quickly but deliberately. Uncoiling the rope and choosing where to cut it with the harpy knife he pulled from his pocket. The sight of the knife sent another visceral thrill from the scar on his stomach straight to his cock. Will heard the knife slice twice through the jute, making him flinch each time. With his downcast eyes, he could only watch as his cock twitched and leaked. Will felt his cheeks flush and burn at his exposed desire, but underneath it all sat an insatiable thrill.

“Arms behind your back and clasp your elbows.” 

Standing behind him now, Hannibal’s voice was not unkind, but it brokered no argument. Will did as he was told, eager now, sucking in his breath as he felt the rope begin to wind around both his forearms, binding them together. The long end of the rope trailed down the crack of his ass, teasing his hole as Hannibal worked, making him want to squirm at the maddeningly light touch. Will did his best to stay still.

Once his wrists were secured, Hannibal stood, bringing the two strands of rope up from his wrists, looping and winding it again and again around his shoulders, first above then below his pecs. He could feel his nipples began to swell and beat between the rough fibers.

Will felt Hannibal tug on what could only be a sort of rope handle, nestled between Will’s shoulder blades and connecting his bound arms to the rope around his chest and shoulders.  Hannibal tugged and pulled at it, quick, efficient, testing. Will thrilled at how easy it was for Hannibal to move him, how tightly he was bound. The rope dug deliciously into his chest and upper arms, but was far from uncomfortable. He couldn’t help but strain against it, marvelling in that contradictory sense of relief that there was no play in the knots, that already he was held fast, that each and every second he relinquished more of his control, that each moment that passed made resistance feel like less of an option. He let a low and long moan escape him as Hannibal’s fingers trailed along the rope, brushing his skin as he came around to stand in front of him. Will kept his eyes fixed hard on the floor.

When Hannibal spoke again, his voice was low, soothing but still stern — comforting and thrilling and infuriating in equal measure. Will already felt like he was drowning in sensation, his concerns and desires all beginning to pool and meld into a single thought, one single need…  _ More _ .

“Stay on your knees, Will, but tuck your toes underneath you and sit back on your heels. This might sound easy now, but if I wanted it to, this alone could break you.”

Will paused only a heartbeat before doing as he was told. Flexing his feet under him before sitting back on his heels, most of his weight concentrated now in the balls of his feet and toes, arches stretched to their limit and toes spread. He couldn’t help but bring his knees wider for more balance, his now swollen cock jutting out in front of him, nowhere to hide his desire. Presented. 

Hannibal hummed a small sound of approval and crouched down in front of him. Will kept his eyes down and watched Hannibal’s hands as they began to loop another length of rope around the top of his thigh and under his shin, once, twice, three times, binding him in a kneeling position.

Will bit off a groan as Hannibal’s forearm brushed against his balls just once, no doubt on purpose, as he began to wind the rope around his second thigh. After that, even though Hannibal’s hands were so close to his cock, it was carefully ignored, making Will all the more aware of it and how hard he was.

Hannibal was so close now that Will could feel his breath, hot but steady on his shoulder. His soft hair played on the sensitive skin of Will’s neck as he reached between his legs to pass the rope under his shin, raised off the floor now since Hannibal had put him on his toes. 

Will couldn’t help but let himself lean against him as he worked, cautiously bringing his head to rest on Hannibal’s shoulder, taking comfort from his presence, so solid and sure in what he was doing. His anchor. Hannibal let him, but offered no further comfort. A profound gratitude spread warm through Will’s body at that small mercy, even though mercy wasn’t what he was after, and when Hannibal completed his work and pulled back to stand before him, Will felt a surprisingly profound sense of loss.

He tried his best to compose himself, eyes still fixed on the floor in front of him, anticipation mounting into excitement as Hannibal walked a slow circle around him, appraising his work. His immaculately pressed pants and spotless leather shoes were all Will could see with lowered eyes, but they were a heady counterpoint to his own exposure. His feet were already beginning to burn beneath him, his toes stretched as far as they would go and bearing so much of his weight.

Hannibal eventually came to stand in front of him, reaching down almost casually to pinch at one swollen nipple. Will gasped. His nipple felt hard as stone under Hannibal’s fingers as they began to mercilessly pull and roll it between them, letting go only long enough to trail languidly over to the other. Will let loose a low keening sound, alien to his own ears. It was as though his nipples were somehow directly connected to his cock — the pleasure and pain so immediate and intense it felt like the conflicting burn of ice. He couldn’t help but strain even harder against the ropes, immensely grateful for his inability to escape even as the sensation threatened to overwhelm him.

“Look at me Will.”

This time Will complied immediately. As their eyes met, Hannibal reached down to pinch both of his nipples, hard enough to mirror the iron in his voice. Hannibal’s fingers held him as ruthlessly as his gaze, rolling the raised nubs between thumb and knuckle hard enough that Will loosed an open mouthed moan.  But still he arched his back and held his eyes as he was told, pressing his chest into Hannibal’s fingers, chasing that delicious burn.

“You’re beautiful like this, Will. Naked. Willing. Brave. But still, you hide behind your pride and wield your grace like a shield.”

Hannibal’s words washed over him, soothing, coaxing, melding with the crackle of the fire, and the sounds of his own need. When Hannibal finally let go of his nipples, Will could barely maintain eye contact, lost on waves of sensation, his mind only able to focus on the feeling that remained, Hannibal’s fingers both there and not there, present and absent, both the relief and agony of their loss. He felt his eyes roll back and begin to close as he sucked in air and panted against the impossible pleasure vibrating between his chest and cock.

“Will.”

It was a single warning. A sharp correction. Likely the only one he would receive. It brought Will back to himself like a slap. He fixed his eyes once again on Hannibal, panting and fighting to focus as his cock leaked and his muscles strained. His toes were now on fire beneath him as he fought to maintain his balance. His breath stalled in his chest as he watched Hannibal deliberately lick his own palm before holding it out to him like a treat.

“Spit.”

Will held his eyes hard as he did so, spit momentarily glowing like a bead of amber in the firelight as it dropped from his lips to Hannibal’s palm. A gleaming trail of saliva strung them briefly together before Will licked his lips and broke it.

Hannibal crouched down in front of him and quickly went to work on Will’s cock, once again stroking it from root to tip without mercy. Hannibal’s eyes burned into his own, holding him just as tightly as the rope. Will did his best to bite back his cries behind clenched teeth as once again the pleasure ripped through him, all together too much and yet still not enough. The fire in his feet was almost forgotten as his orgasm mounted quickly, entirely beyond his control under Hannibal’s relentless rhythm, fast and rough and delicious. Will’s muscles strained at his bonds, tendons cording on his neck, blood rushing in his ears as somehow the pain and the pleasure began to meld into a single sensation he couldn’t help but chase...

“Fuck my hand, Will.”

Will didn’t think, just pumped his hips, fucking into Hannibal’s semi-slick hand, his pride quickly forgotten in his reckless need — headed towards the precipice, heedless of the consequences, utterly lost to his need and Hannibal’s control, his head tipping back as his eyes closed… so close… so…

Will didn’t get a warning this time. The sharp crack of Hannibal’s open palm slapping his cock reverberated in the quiet room, so hard the shock of it loosed a furious cry from Will’s lips as his eyes shot open…

_ My eyes. _

Although the back of his mind screamed at the indignity, Will struggled immediately to correct himself. Panting and blinking back sudden tears, he opened his eyes again and fixed them pointedly on Hannibal, still crouched in front of him. Will could practically feel the red outline of Hannibal’s hand rising on his bobbing cock.

_ Actions have consequences. _

Straining to sit back on his throbbing feet, Will felt nothing so much as desperation to show Hannibal that he knew what he had done wrong — an unexpectedly sudden and fierce desire to please, to win back Hannibal’s admiration. It was startling in its simplicity and was followed by a surprising rush of gratitude for Hannibal’s merciless correction.

_ Thank you. _

Hannibal could no doubt see those two simple words reflected on his face, his eyes softening for just a second before the light of the fire caught inside them once again, highlighting a dark delight that sent a tremor through Will’s muscles. Hannibal reached out to take Will’s chin in his hand, his thumb passing lightly over his lips before gripping him hard, thumb pressing into his cheek. Will melted into the touch, his body tipping forward slightly. The barest hint of a smile darkened Hannibal’s expression, dangerous and predatory as the tone of his voice.

“I have a gift for you, Will… and for me. You can consider it both punishment and reward. You won’t want it at first, but you’ll accept it graciously nonetheless. Stay. Don’t move.”

Hannibal stood gracefully — the hand on his jaw holding on just long enough to right Will’s balance before letting go of him completely. Will’s feet were singing under him now, the pain astonishingly bright for something so simple, simultaneously focused and all encompassing. His muscles were shaking now with the effort to stay upright, but his cock was still so hard he could feel his pulse throbbing there, desperate for Hannibal to touch him again.

He did his best to stay still as Hannibal walked across the room to the ornate chest of drawers, his command still echoing in his mind.

_ Stay. Don’t move. _

He willed his hips not to thrust at the empty air, trying to sink into the pain in his feet, to concentrate on the bite of the rope against his skin. He was so focused on it he didn’t even bother to try and see what Hannibal was doing, couldn’t spare the effort, not for fear or shame or pride. His body shivered with conflicting sensation and he was once again distantly grateful for the rope that allowed him to both let go and hold on.

_ Stay. Don’t move. _

Will could feel a desperate sob building at the back of his throat. He couldn’t stay on his toes any longer, the pain was overwhelming, shocking, singularly diabolical in its maddening simplicity. Still, in this moment he could no more consider relieving it without permission than he could deny how much he was revelling in every single agonizing moment — the pain somehow magnifying the throb in his cock, becoming its own pleasure, bright and hot and burning. 

_ It’s beautiful. _

When Hannibal finally came to stand before him, Will was panting, his cock an angry, wet red.  He looked up at Hannibal in desperation, waiting on his command. Hannibal smiled down at him.

“Good, Will. I’ve waited until just the right moment to give this to you. Ask me to put it on you and I’ll let you down from your toes.”

Hannibal held something shiny up between them so Will could see. It was a delicate silver chain, stretched between his hands and linking together two small clamps at either end, the firelight winking off of it like the twinkle of distant stars. Will’s heart quaked with immediate recognition and a moan was finally wrenched from his throat.

_ Oh god. I can’t. _

A sheen of sweat, born of both indecision and desire, bloomed on his skin. It was remarkable to him that his skin could flush any darker, that his blush seemed to know no depths. The warmth from the fire was suddenly overwhelming, and the burn in Will’s feet threatening to engulf him. He looked up at Hannibal, pleading, desperate, the last of his resistance flaring up inside him bright and hot. It rippled over his skin like wildfire, his synapses on high alert.

_ Please. _

“Such walls you force me to scale, Will, while you do your best to remain locked behind them, adding layer upon layer of stone just as you beg for me to break it down. What you need is to let go. Let go, Will. I’ve got you.”

Hannibal’s voice was quiet, gentle, a coaxing purr stroking Will’s need and eroding his resistance. He could feel another sob building at the back of his throat as Hannibal’s words permeated his last stubborn defenses. He wanted to submit, desperately, the depth and breadth of his need finally becoming clear to him. And wasn’t that the heart of Hannibal’s promise to him?  To give him not just want he wanted, but to give him what he needed?

_ Surrender. _

_ To make you ask for it. _

“Please.” Will’s voice sounded alien to him, his muscles quaking and burning under him, his cock leaking freely, his feet on fire. “Hannibal… please.”

Hannibal held up the nipple clamps so that once more the chain between them was level with Will’s eyes, caught between them like a line begging to be crossed. He cocked an eyebrow, waiting for Will to say the words, which spilled now from him in a rush of need that felt like relief.

“Please, Hannibal. Please,  _ put them on me _ .”

Hannibal let him see the smile spread across his face before pulling out his harpy knife once again, fire catching on its honed edge only inches from Will’s eyes. Will sucked in a breath at the sight, a throb shooting through his scar, as Hannibal reached down and with two quick and careful swipes, cut through the ropes around his thighs, pulling them out from underneath his shins and tossing them to the side.

“Good, Will. Come down off your toes now, but stay on your knees. Do it slowly. You can close your eyes if you wish.”

At first Will wasn’t sure he could even do it. A sob loosed from behind gritted teeth as he gingerly took his weight off the balls of his feet, tipping forward slightly onto his knees as his muscles shook beneath him. Slowly he un-flexed his aching feet. The relief was immense, but the burn of releasing that pressure was almost worse than holding it, pain and relief merging into one, white hot and blinding.

Hannibal pressed in close to him, letting Will lean his weight against him, so immediately and entirely  _ there _ for him that Will’s heart leapt in his chest and all he could feel was soaring love and gratitude, eclipsing all other sensations. Hannibal’s solid presence against his skin was so immensely comforting that for the first time Will wished his hands were free, desperate as he was to grasp at him. Panting and groaning, he felt an overwhelming desire to show Hannibal how he felt.

Without thinking, doing only what felt right in this moment, Will tipped himself forward and planted his lips onto one shiny leather shoe. He breathed in the rich smell of leather and let his lips linger there, willing Hannibal to understand. Despite the small voice in the back of his mind telling him this was madness, it felt right. It felt… pure. There was no place for shame inside of him, no place for it between them, not anymore. 

_ Thank you, my love. _

Above him he heard Hannibal suck in his breath and Will almost sobbed again as he felt Hannibal’s hand coming around to his chin to gently help lift him back up, letting him lean once again against his thigh. He relished the feel of Hannibal’s presence against his cheek, the feel of his fingers tangling in his curls.

“Thank you, Will.”

They were simple words, but they thrummed and resonated in Will’s entire being. For only a second, Hannibal’s voice sounded rough with emotion. Will knew that he understood, that he heard the silent words which Will couldn’t yet muster the ability to speak.

Hannibal let him lean against his leg for only a minute more, a brief moment to recover. But soon he stepped back, leaving Will to struggle gamely to remain upright on his knees, knowing what came next and ready for it now, wanting it desperately.  Hannibal moved in to affix the nipple clamps with deft fingers, working quickly and with surgical precision. The clamps were tight but perfect.

_ He had these made... for me.  Because he knew I would need this. _

Will could feel the chain stringing between the clamps, creating a third invisible connection to his cock. It brushed against his chest, moving and shivering as Will’s muscles continued to shake, pulling minutely but constantly on the clamps. Hannibal paused for a second to look him over, but Will could tell he wasn’t finished.

“Open your mouth, Will.”

Without questioning, Will parted his lips and kept them open as Hannibal carefully picked up the chain between his fingers, and gave it a gentle upward tug. Will sucked in his breath as his nipples sang under the twisting clamps, and moaned as Hannibal deposited the chain in his mouth, one finger coming up under his chin, closing it, the chain now caught like a bit between his teeth.

Hannibal stood back to appraise his work. Silhouetted by the fire Hannibal glowed like a terrible god. Looking down on Will’s upturned face, Will stared back up at him worshipfully. He could feel tears on his cheeks, but his heart soared with lightness as he felt his walls crumbling around him, the weight of them lifting from his shoulders, leaving only Hannibal, both benefactor and destroyer, smiling down at him now, one hand reaching out to brush Will’s sweaty curls back from his brow before resting it on his head like a benediction.

Will arched his back, showing off the delicate chain between his teeth, the clamps pulling at his nipples deliciously, the ropes cutting into his skin as his shoulders strained, presenting himself to Hannibal’s discerning eye. Proud and grateful, powerful and humble — Will felt beautiful.

This was a lesson.

_ I am his design. _

Will felt himself glowing under Hannibal’s regard. Hannibal had always been the only one who could see him. Who knew what he  _ needed _ , even when he couldn’t admit it to himself.

Hannibal circled around to stand behind him and Will’s breath quickened as he felt soft fingers trail up his chest, pausing briefly to tweak at the clamps before dragging fingernails hard, up to his shoulders. Will groaned. His cock was so hard he feared it being touched. He wasn’t sure he could control himself anymore. He wanted Hannibal inside him, claiming him, taking complete ownership of what was his.

Will was yanked suddenly to his feet, as Hannibal dragged him up by the rope handle between his shoulder blades, one hand gripped hard in his hair. He was sure his legs would buckle under him but Hannibal helped hold him up with an iron grip. 

“Walk, Will. Over to the table.”

His voice was deliciously firm once again, undeniable, everything. With Hannibal bearing him up, Will took long, uneven strides over to the dining room table on the opposite side of the large room, doing his best not to stumble, each movement causing him to tug and pull on the chain in his mouth.

When he got close enough to the table Hannibal pulled him to a stop and turned him roughly around to face him. Will kept his eyes down demurely as he had been told, but it was so hard, he wanted to see Hannibal’s face, he wanted to see the menace and the love and the power flaming there.

As if he read his mind, Hannibal tipped his head up with one finger under his chin. Will still kept his eyes down, not wanting to make such a simple mistake. Hannibal extended his palm out, just under his mouth.

“Drop it.”

Will spit out the chain into Hannibal’s hand, the movement shivering through to his nipples.  Hannibal pulled slowly out and down, laying the chain against Will’s chest, just so, before turning him quickly around again, one hand coming up in the middle of his back and pushing his upper body down hard against the table. The sound of the chain and clamps against it was loud in Will ears and frighteningly erotic. He instinctively arched his back as he bent over the table, straining to keep his desperate cock from thrusting against it. Hannibal’s hand pressed into his lower back, exaggerating the arch even more. Will heard his hum of approval as his legs were kicked apart.

Will was panting with need now. The sound of blood rushing in his ears was so loud to him he didn’t hear the cap of the lube open, but he felt it now, drizzling down his crack, teasing at his hole. Hannibal’s fingers followed, pressing inside of him, just a little too much too fast, exactly as he wanted. One finger… two… scissoring inside him now, stretching him open… pulling out entirely before pushing back in, three fingers, four, deep and full…  _ twisting _ ... brushing against his prostate now so that he moaned freely, open mouthed and wild as his body opened to Hannibal.

Suddenly Hannibal removed his fingers completely, leaving Will achingly empty and groaning out a wordless plea. He shoved his hips back, desperate to keep himself from thrusting against the table and frantic for Hannibal to fill him once again. But then he heard the sound of Hannibal’s belt being unbuckled behind him... and in that moment, it was the single most erotic thing he had ever heard, the metallic clink a counterpoint to the sound of the chain rattling against the table under him, each note sending shivers from his chest to his cock as he waited to be filled.

Hannibal paused then, making him wait just long enough for Will’s quiet whimper to become a keening moan, making him ask for it even though he was well past the ability to speak. Satisfied, Hannibal’s hard cock finally pressed against his entrance. As always, no matter how well he was prepared, Will was overwhelmed by the size that pushed into him, too fast and too slow all at once, just as he liked it — that perfect burn as his body surrendered to the relentless intrusion. 

Hannibal always knew exactly how much he could handle, exactly how far Will needed to be taken, and this time was no different. Hannibal knew his  _ true _ limits… not just the lines in the sand that Will’s traitorous mind insisted on drawing, but just how far Will needed to be pushed beyond them.

Hannibal began to thrust into him now, gaining speed until he was fucking him hard and fast and deep, his rhythm steady and relentless. He held Will by the rope handle on his back for leverage, pulling his chest slightly off the table, driving into him so hard that Will could no longer see anything but the nebulous glow of the fire. The sound of the clinking chain under him amplified the punishing rhythm, punctuated by Will’s cries, his own voice reverberating in his ears, desperate, feral, joyous.

Hannibal’s rhythm never changed as he bent over him now, pressing his body down against his back as his right arm came around the front of Will’s shoulders and across his chest, fingers hooking underneath the tight rope, arching him up and back against him, Will’s bound arms caught between them. Will could feel Hannibal’s chest hair against his skin, his crisp white shirt open completely and falling down around them both. Will didn’t know when he’d unbuttoned it, but he thrilled at the electric contact of their skin sparking together as Hannibal rocked into him.

“Kiss me, Will.”

Hannibal’s voice was rough with desire, but had lost none of its command. Will groaned as he twisted his head around, opening his mouth to Hannibal as he licked and bit and sucked at his lips, doing his best to kiss him back, lips and tongue reaching, all the while still rocked by those wicked thrusts. Hannibal was somehow becoming a part of every sense and sensation, becoming the firelight and the wet sounds of their sex, becoming his burning need, becoming his entire world.

“You will not come until I say, Will. Do you hear me?”

Will had barely nodded his head when Hannibal reached his other arm underneath him and quickly removed the clamps, first from one nipple and then the other, simultaneously angling his thrusts to hit that spot inside him that felt like pure fire. Will loosed a guttural scream and almost came right then, saved only by Hannibal’s command still lingering in his mind. Just like his feet, the sudden absence of the clamps was infinitely more intense than their presence. Hannibal dropped the chain to the table and used his free hand to pinch and massage at Will’s nipples, turning the pain to impossible pleasure. 

Will’s voice was becoming hoarse behind his moans as he lost himself, giving himself over completely. Still Hannibal’s rhythm never slowed, if anything it sped up, devoid of mercy, but full of love. Will’s body opened, yielding — every part of him surrendering, letting go. This moment was the only thing in the world, underwritten by a gratitude and love so profound he felt he would burst with it. He felt his lips trying to form words around his open-mouthed cries.

“You can say it, Will. Tell me what you want me to hear.”

It all seemed so easy now, like a gift — to be suddenly able to say the words. Will sobbed them out in time with Hannibal’s thrusts...

“Thank… you. God… Hannibal… thank… you!”

Hannibal’s smiling lips were at his ear now, his voice a purr, quiet but strong…

“Come for me.”

And Will did. Immediately and entirely untouched, crying out, that undeniable command sending thick ropes of come shooting from him as he pushed back onto Hannibal’s cock with abandon, punishing his own prostate, causing Hannibal to moan and grip at his hips, pulling them together, his own cock pulsing and stretching Will even wider as Hannibal came with a fierce cry, emptying himself inside him in hot bursts like molten fire.

Hannibal’s body dropped down once again against Will’s back, enfolding him with both arms, his mouth on the back of his neck, biting and kissing him softly, his thrusts slowing until they were rocking gently against each other, his breath shuddering and hot on Will’s throat.

After a minute, Hannibal pulled out of him gently and made quick work of untying Will’s arms, helping him up and turning his near-limp body around to face him.The rope dropped away from his shoulders and chest, but Hannibal’s arms replaced it immediately; his tether, holding him up while Will’s face rested against his furred chest and they panted together. Hannibal was petting his curls and crooning a low, comforting sound that needed no words. 

Will’s mind was still, Hannibal had taken everything toxic from him, and left only comfort in its place. Belonging. Love.

_ His. _

Will was weeping softly, but those tears flowed purely from the profound peace he felt, drifting but tethered here in Hannibal’s tight embrace. Bound together. His heart felt so light, as though the ugly shadows it had carried for so long had been burned off in the crucible of what Hannibal had done for him.

Hannibal’s lips pressed into the top of his head. When their words came, they spoke in perfect tandem — Hannibal’s whispered into his curls, Will’s murmured against Hannibal’s furred chest…

“Thank you.”

“I love you.”

Will brought his arms up to circle around Hannibal’s waist, possessively pulling him even closer.

_ Mine. _

This was a lesson.

He should learn to ask for what he wanted more often.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for reading, I hope you enjoyed! :D
> 
> And thanks so much to everyone who waited for this second half :D Your eager but patient words of encouragement were much appreciated! 
> 
> As always, kudos and comments are magical and you are a magical creature for leaving them XOXOXO
> 
> If you're so inclined, it would also be amazing if you hopped over to Tumblr and boosted this fic [here](https://thisismydesignhannibal.tumblr.com/post/163599810051/and-cure-his-heart-part-2-finished-fic%0A)
> 
> Also, if you’re interested in reading about that “first time” Will was dreaming about, you can read it here: [Blood Will Have Blood](http://archiveofourown.org/works/8794681/chapters/20162383)


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